


Thirty Seconds

by soafterr



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Mockingjay, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soafterr/pseuds/soafterr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Twenty-eight, Twenty-nine, Thirty. I count an extra five just in case. I slowly open my eyes and look down at the pregnancy stick."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Seconds

Thirty seconds. That’s how long I have to wait for my answer.

 

Thanks to the advance Capitol technology, I’ll get my result weeks before my body would naturally tell me I am with child. Thirty seconds. Weeks early. So why do I still feel impatient, like I’ve been waiting a lifetime?

 

In the span of half a minute, my brain is doing acrobats. What exactly am I hoping for here?

 

A plus sign means that five months of trying has finally paid off, that Peeta and I will finally be parents. But in these 30 seconds I begin to doubt if I really want that, really want to bring another person in this unpredictable world.

 

A minus sign means we’ve failed again. I’ve failed again. Or it is a success? Am I really cut out to be a mother? Is it worth bringing this bright spot into our lives only to risk having it extinguished?

 

Twenty-eight, Twenty-nine, Thirty. I count an extra five just in case. I slowly open my eyes and look down at the pregnancy stick.

 

Minus.

 

Without.

 

Again.

 

I search my mind for any feelings of relief, but I only feel disappointment. Five months, we’ve been trying at this. Nearly half a year.

 

I can feel myself slipping under. I walk listlessly to the bed and flop on my back, vacantly staring at the ceiling. Like the lizard mutts in the Capitol, my depression wraps its slimy claws around my ankles and pulls me down.

 

Distantly, I hear the distinct sound of one real foot and one prosthetic thumping up the stairs.

 

Peeta doesn’t know what I’ve been doing up here. After I had to watch the hope drain from his face three different times, I just couldn’t take the test with him there anymore. I told Peeta that I’ll tell him when it’s positive, but until then to assume we aren’t pregnant. He was disappointed, but I think he understands. I hope he understands.

 

“There she is,” he beams. I still stare at the ceiling but I can tell by his voice that he is feeling particularly chipper today, and from my peripheral vision, I know he is smiling. “I got off work early today.”

 

Peeta climbs on top of the bed, over me, and, feeling especially playful, sticks his head under my shirt. He places little kisses and nibbles all around my belly button. If I were in a different mood, I’m sure I would encourage him with giggles and this might lead somewhere else.

 

Just before he pulls away, I feel him press a sweet, tender kiss, just under my belly button. I have to shut my eyes to keep the tears from spilling over. That last kiss was not meant for me.

 

“There’s nothing in there,” I croak.

 

“What?” Peeta sits up and even with my eyes shut can sense he is really looking at me for the first time since he got home. I can feel his shoulders deflate and his worry for me spike. “Katniss?”

 

“It’s empty. I’m not pregnant. Again.”

 

His hand slips under my shirt and rests over my stomach and I want to hit him because doesn’t he understand what I just said?

 

“Hey, that’s okay,” his voice is soothing in the best way, and it’s the only thing that can break through the fog of depression that is coming over me. “It’ll happen for us.”

 

Despite my close eyelids, a few tears begin to escape.

 

“And what if it doesn’t? What if I took too long to decide?”

 

I feel the bed shift as he lies down next to me. His hands on my hips turn my body toward him, so I am enveloped by his warm arms and calming presence.

 

“Katniss, you’re 32. People our age are having babies all the time.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I rasp into his shoulder. “There could still be something wrong with me. Maybe it’s like a natural defense, that people who shouldn’t be mothers –”

 

“Stop! Stop doing this to yourself,” his voice is stern and I know I’ve upset him. “You think I’d be here if only mothers who deserved children got them? And on top of that, Katniss, _no one_ deserves a baby more than you. _No one_.”

 

I almost argue with him, seeing how _Peeta_ is much more fit to be a parent than I am, but I know he won’t have any of that from me right now. He pulls me tighter against him, and I let myself relax into his chest.

 

His voice softens, “We’ll try again. And we’ll keep trying. And if it still doesn’t happen, that okay. As long as I get to spend the rest of my life with you, I’ll be happy. Plus, there are always other options.”

 

“Like what?” I ask, my voice small like a child’s.

 

His hand gently slides up and down my back, and I notice my breathing is matching his.

 

“Adoption. There will always be orphans, unfortunately. I’m sure the Capitol has some expensive ways of getting you pregnant.”

 

I bury my head into his neck and take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. It’s reassuring, but it’s not enough. With all that Peeta has done for me in life, I need to give him this.

 

I vow to myself, one day, I will have his baby. One day, I will make him the father of a child with his laughter and my smile.

 

And later that night, I do.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a couple weeks ago but I forgot to post it until now. sorry the title sucks. hope you enjoyed it :)  
> as always, thank you to thequeenpatches for pre-reading
> 
> follow me at soafterr.tumblr.com  
> also follow my sideblog dedicated to everlark fanart at everlarkimages.tumblr.com


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